Freefall to Fate
by dfriendly
Summary: Sir Arthur is assigned as Princess Guinevere's personal protection on the trip to meet her betrothed, Prince Lancelot. And thus began the freefall to fate. Alternate Universe. GwenxArthur.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Freefall to Fate – AU Camelot

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot, Arthur/Morgana, possible Merlin/Lady of the Lake, possible Morgana/OC, Uther, & OC.

**Rating: **T for violence (NC-17 in later chapters…)

**Word Count:** 1,364 (Ch 1 alone)

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own, because if I did…let's just say it wouldn't be a "family" show

**Warnings:** some clichés/plot devices and angst.

**Summary:** Sir Arthur is assigned as Princess Guinevere's personal protection on the trip to meet her betrothed, Prince Lancelot. And thus began the freefall to fate.

**A/N:** Written for the "Challenge 04 – Alternate Universe" in the merlin_rarepair LJ comm

I should perhaps clarify that this is *not* a 'this is how the legend really happened' fic, more of an AU/Legend fusion (mostly AU with snippets from legend when it so suited me… which became more and more as I progressed). I also claim only minimal knowledge of the Arthurian legend.

This fic just soooo ran away with me. Luckily, the particular challenge allowed WIPs, otherwise I would be so screwed. I wish there was a bit more to present for the challenge, but ironically a lot of the stuff I wrote is for later chapters (and it's now 5am & I'm feeling sick, so I can hardly write more). So I stopped it where it is and will add more later….

llllllllll

For being a princess, Guinevere was surprisingly unpursued by suitors. She was beautiful in her own right, not to mention her highly prized position. But any man that met Guinevere would eventually come across her adoptive sister, Lady Morgana, and the competition would end there, Guinevere clearly outshone.

But Guinevere didn't mind, as she was not the sort who enjoyed attention; she got enough of it as being princess alone, she didn't need a hoard of suitors vying for her affection, as well.

Morgana, of course, was everything that men seemed to want. She was beyond gorgeous and had the sort of demanding presence that claimed all men's attention as soon as she entered the room. Men fought over themselves for her affection, although none seemed to be a clear winner… except perhaps Sir Arthur.

Arthur was Camelot's best knight and champion of the annual tournaments. He was brave, handsome, and headstrong. And similar to the way that men fell over themselves for Morgana, women of all ranks took great notice of Arthur.

He was lucky in some ways, because Arthur was of a peculiar station, technically neither a peasant nor noble, so he had little restrictions on who he could marry. He had originally been a squire when he was young, an awkward boy who ran around carrying the swords and shields and helmets, and not without his share of bullying from the knights. But years ago that had changed in a rare tournament open to all, which Arthur had won. And although it granted him a small fortune that he could use, what he had really desired was the recognition, the glory. There had been consideration that he would be allowed to join the knighthood, which was made official after he helped the knights slay a great beast, saving Camelot and receiving another sizeable reward.

That was how Sir Arthur had managed to rise through the ranks, now sitting rather high in class. Not so high that he would be allowed to marry a princess – Uther's only daughter by birth – but high enough that few doubted his ability to have Lady Morgana's hand, if he so chose to ever ask King Uther.

Guinevere was convinced that the two would marry, and she couldn't be happier for her adoptive sister. Personally, she found Arthur's personality a bit abrasive – his great success had seemed to go to his head so that he'd become a bit of an arrogant bully. But he got on with Morgana well enough, complete with slight teasing and verbal sparring, but it was part of a game, Guinevere was sure. And Morgana might need someone as headstrong as herself.

Besides, Arthur wasn't all bad. First of all, he had an unshakeable dedication to Camelot, which was admirable. And it wasn't like Arthur had ever been personally rude to Guinevere, instead perfectly polite and gentlemanly – not that he seemed to acknowledge her much at all in front of Morgana, but Guinevere was used to that.

If Guinevere hadn't known that she would have to get married one day – as the only man that could succeed the thrown would be whoever married the princess – she would have doubted that she might ever wed. But one day it had finally been decided by her father. She would marry Prince Lancelot, the second son of King Ban of Benwick.

In a week's time, she would travel to Benwick, where she would meet her betrothed. There she would marry him, returning to Camelot soon after as husband and wife.

The plans had been made, everything arranged to the letter. She would travel in a small party, with some protection; her father was arriving two days after (to reduce the amount of time that the king would be away from Camelot). The arrangement had been so perfectly set up to both kings' satisfaction, that Uther was afraid of letting the smallest detail being changed and risking the deal to fall through. So when there was news of higher danger on the roads, Uther hesitated with risking his daughter's safety, but decided against any altering of plans.

lll

"You should be careful," Merlin said, holding the bridle of his master's horse as Sir Arthur mounted.

"I know all about the increased bandit activity, Merlin. It's why the king is having me go as Princess Guinevere's personal protection."

"That's not what I mean. I'm saying that you need to be careful with Guinevere. Even if you feel that something is right, it's _not_. Because it will lead to your fall. To _Camelot's_ fall."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're speaking in riddles, Merlin," he said and snapped the horse's reins for it to move towards the traveling party.

"It's not a riddle," Merlin called to Arthur's retreating back. "It's a warning!"

lll

It was a long journey, taking two full days and requiring that they camp for a night.

The first day had gone smoothly. But the real test was when they approached the edges of Camelot's boundaries, where the roads were not so well policed.

The horse Arthur rode was acting a little nervous. This didn't surprise him, as his usual horse had thrown a shoe right before they were to leave, so he had to take this one instead. Arthur wasn't familiar with this horse, and more importantly, it wasn't familiar with him. It especially didn't help that he suspected the horse was newly broken, since it acted a little skittish at times – especially at the moment.

It was most likely just this stretch of road. The path was on a hillside and rather narrow. Arthur was riding on the outside of Princess Guinevere (who'd barely spoken since their departure yesterday), so the horse probably didn't like being so close to the steep drop off.

Arthur tried his best to soothe the beast, patting the side of its neck reassuringly. But its ears kept pricking nervously.

It was when the horse's snorts broke through the strange silence and it stamped its feet that Arthur gave pause, turning his head suspiciously.

He had no more than a second to respond, pushing the princess down low to her horse before a hail of arrows fell onto their party from the ridge above the road.

Arthur drew his sword and yelled something, although he wasn't entirely sure what. His horse reared up in panic, an arrow in its hindquarters – not enough to seriously injure it, but enough to give a good spook. The horse lost its footing on the edge of the road, stumbling down the slope. Arthur jumped from the saddle, rolling to avoid being crushed by his steed. It bolted, but Arthur couldn't worry about that now with the attack on the road above. He clambered up the hillside, slipping in the loose dirt as he climbed.

As the scene above him became more visible, he saw how easily the guards were going down. They had been surprised by the shower of arrows and were outnumbered two to one. The guards could barely fend for themselves, let alone protect the princess. But Arthur couldn't find her through the foray.

Finally, he spotted a flash her purple dress in the sea of dirty brown highwaymen and red and silver guards.

Guinevere was on the ground, either thrown or dragged from her horse, being accosted by two of the bandits. He ran to her, drawing his sword and cleanly stabbing one of her assailers in the back while he saw the princess punch the other one square in the nose. It surprised him a bit, enough even that he didn't realize at first when she drew the short sword from his belt and killed the second man herself.

Unable to ponder it any longer, he took her by the hand, trying to pull her with him through the fight. What he wanted was a horse, but they'd all run off as soon as their riders had been killed or dragged off. Instead they would just have to run for their lives.

Three more criminals tried to prevent them, but Arthur took down two while Guinevere agilely snuck between the blows to finish the third.

Then they just ran for their lives.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Freefall to Fate – AU Camelot [2/?]

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur (Gwen/Lancelot, Arthur/Morgana, possible Merlin/Lady of the Lake, possible Morgana/OC, Uther, & OCs)

**Rating:** T(NC-17 in later chapters…)

**Word Count:** 3,586

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own, because if I did…let's just say it wouldn't be a "family" show

**Warnings:** some clichés/plot devices, angst, character death.

**Summary:** Sir Arthur is assigned as Princess Guinevere's personal protection on the trip to meet her betrothed, Prince Lancelot. And thus began the freefall to fate.

**A/Ns:** First written for the "Challenge 04 – Alternate Universe" in the merlin_rarepair LJ comm (which accepted WIPs). This fic concept just soooo ran away with me.

I should perhaps clarify that this is *not* a 'this is how the legend really happened' fic, more of an AU/Legend fusion (mostly AU with snippets from legend when it so suited me… which became more and more as I progressed). I also claim only minimal knowledge of the Arthurian legend.

Ok, no more A/Ns, onto the story!

llllllllll

After a few miles, Arthur and Princess Guinevere finally slowed their run to a brisk walk.

He turned his head, once again reassuring that Princess Guinevere was still next to him and had not fallen behind. She had surprised him by keeping up instead of needing to be dragged along by the hand. He had held onto it at first, but had dropped it while they ran, discovering they made better time if they weren't holding awkwardly onto each other. It also allowed her to pick up her impeding skirts to her knees with Arthur's shortsword still tucked under her other arm.

"Do you think they followed us?" the princess asked suddenly.

"I don't know. It depends whether their intent was to kidnap you or just to loot us."

"Well, they seemed more concerned about taking my necklace than with me. So perhaps they won't care enough to go after us."

Arthur still couldn't help glancing over his shoulder. "That's one consolation."

Turning his head back around, he noticed how she fingered a small cut on her neck from jewelry being ripped off.

"You're hurt."

She shook her head. "It's just a scratch. I am more shaken than anything."

"You're sure?"

"Very. You are the one that tumbled down the ridge, not I."

That was true. Arthur was actively ignoring the ache in his left side from jumping and landing to avoid being crushed by his horse. Nothing major, but he was certain there would be bruising.

However Arthur had been ordered to protect her and it was her well-being that mattered. But before he could open his mouth to ask further, the princess posed her own question, seemingly keen to change the subject.

"Do you know where we're going?"

Arthur grimaced. "Besides in the general direction of Benwick, not really, my lady."

He saw her nod and was glad that she wasn't going to whine about him getting them lost.

They continued to trudge through the forest, brambles catching and snagging at her dress, but she seemed to not notice the damage.

"Would you like me to carry that, my lady?" he said, pointing to the shortsword.

She shrugged and handed it over for him to return to his belt.

"You were very brave," he added hesitantly.

She paused, before sputtering, "Thank you."

lll

Sir Arthur decided to stay off the roads, as they were proven dangerous with the prevalence of highwaymen. Going through the landscape would take longer as it would make for a harder trek, but it was safer and Guinevere agreed.

It might have been noon when they reached the summit of one of the many hills and spotted a small village below through the thinning trees.

"We should stop for food," Sir Arthur announced.

"And hopefully get some directions," Guinevere added, to which he nodded in agreement.

"As well as…," he continued hesitantly, "you'll need another dress, my lady. This one attracts too much attention. I know it won't be the ideal outfit to be received in, but it is the safest way to travel."

"Then in that case, I should wear boy's clothes," she said matter-of-factly. "And a cap – for my hair."

"Boy's clothes, my lady?" Sir Arthur asked with raised eyebrows. And it was understandable, as dressing as a male was scandalous enough without her being a princess.

"It would be even less conspicuous. No one would question a knight traveling with his servant."

The knight nodded. "That's true. But you won't mind?"

"Of course not. Besides, traveling will be easier in trousers."

He paused, his eyebrows slightly raised. "That's very practical of you, my lady. Something not often found with women of the court."

"Neither is the ability to fight with a sword," she returned pointedly.

She saw his lips twitch, holding back a smile. "Both of which are valuable, my lady. Especially at present. It was not a complaint. Your idea is unconventional, but nevertheless cunning." He continued to study her face, making her realize that she had never spoken directly to Sir Arthur for this long.

Guinevere finally broke eye-contact with him to look toward the village below them. "We should carry on," she said, beginning to walk down.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I don't think you should come into town," Sir Arthur interrupted. "You're dressed too richly; it would be particularly attractive to robbers."

She sighed. "Alright. I will stay here."

Sir Arthur nodded. "Stay hidden in the trees. If there's trouble, run straight to the town. I'll be back as soon as I can." He paused, before unbuckling the belt of his shortsword and held it out to her. "For just in case, since you know how to use it."

She did not miss his smile, however slight.

lll

Arthur returned within a half-hour, climbing back up the hill where he had left the princess and hoping that she was still there and perfectly safe.

Which she was, he discovered, as he found her practicing the sword routine done by Camelot's knights.

"Your second stance could be a bit wider," he remarked.

She sharply turned, her sword raised toward possible danger, but soon lowered upon recognition of him. A faint blush rose on her face as her eyes lowered, slightly embarrassed. "I have never been properly trained, Sir. Only what we can figure out from observation."

"Well you have done very well on just that, my lady." He nodded, before adding, "'We'?"

"Morgana and myself," she answered.

His eyebrows raised briefly in surprise. "I didn't know. She never mentioned it before." He then shrugged. "But I suppose our conversations usually remain superficial."

She nodded in understanding and set down the shortsword and belt. "So were you successful?"

Arthur remembered the pack on his shoulders and swung it down. "I was, my lady." He began to unpack the boy's clothes, handing them to her outstretched arms. "The pants might be bit long, but that will only better cover your boots. And the shirt will be big, but it will better hide, erm…"

Princess Guinevere did not seem offended, though, at his improper topic. Instead, she smiled and he swore she even held back a chuckle. "I suppose that would be good."

"And a cap," he finished awkwardly, self-consciously scratching his head.

She thanked him, before walking behind some particularly dense foliage to change.

After a minute of tense silence, Arthur avoiding looking in the direction of the bushes, even if she was well hidden, he heard the sudden sound of ripping fabric.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, I just need to tear some strips from my dress."

"Whatever for?"

"Well, the bodice of my shift doesn't do an adequate enough job at… concealing certain things."

"Oh," he said a bit stupidly, wishing he hadn't asked. It was hardly proper for him to discuss binding a woman's bosom. And it _especially_ wasn't proper for him to imagine the purple silk of her dress being wrapped around that part of her body, even if he was trying his hardest to rid himself of the erotic notion.

He cleared his throat. "So I was also able to get directions to Benwick, my lady."

"That's good. How far away are we?"

"Luckily we it doesn't seem that we strayed too far from the correct bearing. I was told we would arrive in Benwick the day after tomorrow if we travel by foot – which I'm sorry to say we must do, since I don't have the money with me for a horse."

"I will make do," she called back. After a moment she added, "At least this means I will have to spend less time in dealing with the social niceties in Benwick."

Before he could say anything in response, she appeared from behind the foliage, dressed just like a servant boy. The bagginess of the shirt did help hide the… _ampleness_ of her bosom that could not be fully contained by the bindings on her chest, along with the womanly curve of her hips. And she already had the cap in place, concealing all of her long curls. But no matter what she wore, Arthur still thought she looked very much a woman.

"You'll have to keep you head down in the presence of others, my lady."

"To keep up the appearance of my subservience?"

"I mean because your face, is too…" _beautiful_, it vaguely occurred to him. "You look feminine even for a young boy."

Her mouth opened as if to respond, but instead merely nodded.

Arthur then cleared his throat. "We should be going."

"Yes," she agreed, reaching down for the pack by his feet.

"There's no need, my lady," he said, picking it up.

But the princess shook her head. "Since I am posing as your servant, it wouldn't be right for you to carry it."

"But you are _not_ a servant, so there is no _need_ for you to carry it, my lady."

"We should be keeping up the appearance that I _am_," she reminded, a tad annoyed.

"I doubt people will pay that much attention."

Her tone was near incredulous. "But do we really want to risk that?" So he would let her carry a sword but not a pack?

"If by some astounding chance someone is that observant, then I will deal with them."

"And yet you had preferred we stay off the road for that same reason of avoiding a fight."

"That has nothing to do –"

"Just let me carry the pack, Wart!"

Arthur stopped short in shock. No one had dared call him that in years, since his days as a squire. He was even a little surprised that she had known him by that name, before he had gained any recognition as a knight.

But the result of her using his demeaning nickname had gotten the desired effect. Whether out of trained obedience associated with the name or just astonishment itself, Princess Guinevere was able to take the pack out of his hands and put it on.

"Well, now that that's settled, I'd say we should move on."

Arthur wet his lips, wearing the first look of insecurity on his face she had seen in years. "Yes, you're right."

She gestured before them with her arm. "I am the servant. You walk in front of me."

Arthur nodded, still a little flustered, and started walking.

lll

After a time, Sir Arthur had decided they could once again travel on the road, now that they seemed far enough within the borders of Benwick that highwaymen were less of a threat. It also eased his worries that she was now disguised. But Guinevere could tell he was not going to let his guard down, judging from the stiff posture of his shoulders and the way his left hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He had also insisted that she keep his shortsword for the rest of the journey, which – despite that meaning the persistence of danger – thrilled Guinevere a bit to carry the sword on her hip.

Sir Arthur's recognition of her capability to fight actually surprised her. He was the pinnacle of nobility in the knighthood – regardless of his actual bloodline. And although that quality was one of the reasons she respected him, it was also one of those qualities that often accompanied male chauvinism. Some men would be so concerned with protecting and saving the maidens fair, they would refuse to believe that not all women are entirely helpless. Yet Sir Arthur acknowledged that she was able to defend herself (despite his fit of gentlemanliness over carrying the pack). He was not about to relax his security on her, of course, but he respected her abilities and independence, which in turn only increased her respect for him.

He also seemed to value her judgment and authority as princess. As a knight and a man, he could have overridden her decision to dress as a servant boy by deeming it unseemly. Instead, he agreed with the fact it was safer, commenting on her practicality and cleverness. And his willingness to trust her judgment made him a better man than most in her eyes.

It was these things that turned in Guinevere's head while they journeyed the rest of the day. Only once the sun had set, the sky turning from pink to dark burgundy and the trees' shadows creeping farther and farther along the ground until they disappeared, that Sir Arthur deemed it time to make camp.

They departed from the road in favor of denser trees for better protection and found a spot just big enough for a fire and two reclined bodies. Sir Arthur began collecting firewood, which Guinevere joined him in doing.

"You don't have to, my lady," he said. But she could tell from his look that he no longer would have expected her to yield.

Neither of them spoke again until after the fire was high and the sky black. But unlike the comfortable silence they'd had previously while walking, the air seemed thick and tense as if to mock the awkwardness that lingered between them.

Guinevere nibbled at the last of her rationed supper, afraid to finish and be left with nothing to do while she was still not ready to sleep. Meanwhile, Sir Arthur spent most of his time staring into the fire, occasionally jabbing the wood around with the stick in his hand.

Unable to take the silence much longer, Guinevere finally spoke up.

"Might I ask what you're thinking about, Sir Arthur?"

His head jerked up, clearly startled by her voice. He cleared his throat first, his voice rough from lack of use. "Nothing, my lady. Only of our journey tomorrow."

She nodded, his answer not unexpected but not helping the silence either. Although perhaps he realized the chance to ease the tension and spoke up a moment later.

"Although, I suppose I was _curious_…" he began carefully, "as to how you knew people used to call me Wart."

Guinevere pursed her lips for a beat, not exactly sure what he meant until it dawned on her. "Because I pay attention."

"Even to servants?"

"Yes, even to servants."

A moment more passed in silence before she added softly, "I'm sorry I called you that. I sure you never much appreciated the nickname."

He shrugged. "I was used to it. Just… nobody has called me that in a long time."

"I presume 'Sir Wart' would not strike fear into enemies' hearts," she said lightly.

He smiled. "No, I suppose it doesn't really demand the same amount of respect."

Not wanting to drop the newly-found ease between them, she continued. "Do you find it odd now to be waited on, since you used to be a servant yourself?"

Sir Arthur moved his mouth to one side in thought as he gazed down into the fire. "Sometimes. Especially at first. But I deal mostly with Merlin now, and he doesn't really act like a servant, my lady."

She giggled, knowing full well of the infamous manservant. The supposed mark of a good servant was for the nobility to not even know they were there, and even the _king_ knew who Merlin was.

When the knight looked back up at her, he was smiling again, his eyes shining, but his face faded after a second of meeting her eyes and he cleared his throat.

"You know," Guinevere started back up after the awkward pause, "you don't need to address me by any titles. No one else is here, and I rather hate them."

He paused at her request, before saying, "If that is what you wish, my lady."

"Guinevere," she corrected.

"Guinevere," he repeated. She couldn't help but notice how his voice made her name sound unusually pleasant. "Then you must call me Arthur."

She nodded and smiled. "Alright, Arthur. Perhaps if we are dropping the formalities, I might ask you another question."

"Okay."

Guinevere chewed her bottom lip, gathering the courage before she asked it. "From what I remember, you used to be a fairly sweet boy. Whatever happened to him?"

Sir Arthur blinked, apparently not expecting that. "He's still…" he waved his hand about him, "around, I guess. But when I became a knight, I had to…"

"Become a prat?" she asked boldly, somehow unable to hold back her opinion of him while she had the chance.

He laughed, luckily unfazed. "Did you get that from Merlin?"

"Perhaps," she answered, trying to hold back her smile.

"Well, yes. I suppose it was one of the side effects. But I didn't know you had shared Merlin's low opinion of me."

Guinevere shook her head unconvincingly as her face grew warm. "I do not have a low opinion of you."

Arthur playfully pointed his finger at her. "You do! You think I'm arrogant!"

"Perhaps a _little_ prideful."

"But you don't like me."

"No, I – I…" she stammered. "I know that even with your faults, you're a good man."

"And how do you know that?"

"Well, because I know…" She looked away, now feeling embarrassed. She took a deep breath before continuing. "I know you love Camelot."

Arthur's teasing stopped abruptly.

"I mean, you seem to love it very much, more than the other knights, even."

He poked the fire with the stick in his hands again. "Well…" he began thoughtfully, "The people have always been kind to me, even before I was a knight, when I was young and needed the goodwill of others the most. I was always looked after by various people, who would give me food or a place to sleep for a few nights. They are _good_ people."

Guinevere was quiet a moment. "I never knew that," she said softly. "I never knew what your life had been before becoming a squire."

He nodded. "I have Sir Kay to thank for that. He used to see me watching their practices and realized I was without a home."

"But he used to bully you something awful!" she said astounded.

Sir Arthur shrugged and chuckled. "Yes, he did. But I am thankful for what he did and I owe him for that and for who I am now."

"Including being a bully yourself," she ribbed.

He laughed again. "I suppose that, too."

"Did he teach you how to fight?"

"No. I have no idea if he would have, had I asked, as I was too afraid to. Like yourself, I was self-taught. I read every book on fighting and knighthood and war I could find – more than I'm sure other knights have read. I poured over them late at night or in my few spare hours during the day. And as a squire I was able to just watch them all the time. Not only learn how to move, how to fight, but able to study different men's techniques … and each of their weaknesses."

"So that's how you won your first tournament? You knew their weaknesses."

Sir Arthur nodded. "I knew exactly how to take each man down. Sir Kay lent me some spare armor and a sword, thinking I had no greater chance of winning than I did of sprouting an extra head."

"How did he react when you won?"

"I don't think the poor man knew what to do with himself," he laughed. "Especially after I'd beat him in the third round. And since I knew his style better than anyone's, I knew exactly what he'd do and took him down in the shortest amount of time."

He paused for a moment, before adding. "But I'd like to think he was proud in some small way, once the shock wore off. He was one of the first knights to respect and welcome me as one of their own, so he helped set the example for the others."

"Had you always wanted to be a knight?"

"As long as I can remember. When I was young, it used to be out of admiration and wanting to be a hero and well-liked. And it still is, I suppose. But Camelot is my home. I never knew my parents, never had any family or close friends. So Camelot has been the one constant in my life."

"Merlin is not your close friend?"

He raised his eyebrows, perhaps surprised once again by her attentiveness. "In the few years I've known him, I suppose he is." He then smiled. "Just don't tell him that. It would go right to his head."

She laughed. "I'm sure he already knows," she said before her tone grew softer. "He would do anything for you, you know."

He nodded, his voice solemn. "I do."

"And I think you would do anything for him."

"Yes, I would." After a moment, he added, "I'm glad you can understand that. Many people of the nobility wouldn't."

"Well…" she began. "I often find statuses frustrating, and how they dictate what you can and can't do. And I know what it's like… for people to judge you by only your position. Most see me as a princess and nothing else."

"Well, consider me one person who now knows better. I admit I once mistook you for meek, but now I know you as strong, brave, and insightful."

She met his eyes, smiling warmly. "Thank you"

"And if there is one thing I have learned, Guinevere, it is to refuse to let your circumstance dictate how you live your life."

They were silent again as she considered his words. "That is sage advice, Arthur. I will remember it."

llllllllll

**More A/Ns (Yeah, I lied about there not being any more):** I'll also add that I have only ever gotten through Chapter 5 of The Once and Future King. So I'm taking from it/Disney's Sword in the Stone, but it doesn't follow it perfectly (AU-ified or otherwise)

I also know that a 'squire' usually means a boy/young man that is training to become a knight one day, but in this story (partially because I always forget that & wrongly used the term in my first installment) it is just a servant to the knights. So forgive me, K?


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Freefall to Fate – AU Camelot [3/?]

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur (Gwen/Lancelot, Arthur/Morgana, possible Merlin/Lady of the Lake, possible Morgana/OC, Uther, & OCs)

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word Count:** 2428

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own, because if I did…let's just say it wouldn't be a "family" show

**Warnings:** some clichés/plot devices, angst, character death.

**Summary:** Sir Arthur is assigned as Princess Guinevere's personal protection on the trip to meet her betrothed, Prince Lancelot. And thus began the freefall to fate.

**A/Ns:** First written for the "Challenge 04 – Alternate Universe" in the merlin_rarepair LJ comm (which accepted WIPs). This fic concept just soooo ran away with me.

I should perhaps clarify that this is *not* a 'this is how the legend really happened' fic, more of an AU/Legend fusion (mostly AU with snippets from legend when it so suited me… which became more and more as I progressed). I also claim only minimal knowledge of the Arthurian legend.

Ok, no more A/Ns, onto the story!

llllllllll

It was almost alarming how much of a change had happened between Arthur and the princess. Before this, they had barely ever spoken. In fact, if Guinevere were just another noblewoman instead of being the princess and adoptive sister of Morgana, he would probably barely know of her existence. He had always thought she was a wallflower. Pretty, but much too shy for his liking. Now he knew better, knew that underneath the quiet exterior, she was a warm presence, with plenty of unspoken thoughts hiding in her head.

Perhaps that was why Morgana seemed so fond of Guinevere. Arthur had always thought them an unlikely pairing, one woman famously bold and the other notably coy. He had assumed it was merely sisterhood that bonded them, but now he understood why Morgana would cherish Guinevere's companionship so, for he was finding value in it as well.

The next day seemed much more comfortable between them after their discussion last night. They talked some while they traveled, like about how she and Morgana had begun learning how to swordfight and some of Arthur's funnier stories about Merlin. Guinevere's laughter would ripple through the forest and he wouldn't be able to help returning her charming smile with a wide grin of his own.

The hours seemed to pass quickly until it was once again growing dark and they were less than a day's journey from Benwick. Arthur knew he should be relieved to be so close to their destination, but he also couldn't help some regret that it would soon be over. And he wondered if maybe she shared that sentiment.

lll

"Might I ask what you are thinking about?" he asked, similar to how she had begun their conversation the previous night.

Guinevere looked up from the campfire, a little flustered by his sudden question.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to pry."

"No. I did my share of prying last night. It is only fair."

"But there was nothing you asked that I was unwilling to give up."

"I am not unwilling to tell you, Arthur." Guinevere shook her head and swallowed, unsure why she felt awkward bringing subject up with him. "I was just thinking about Prince Lancelot."

"I see," he answered in a strained voice, lowering his gaze. "It is natural for a woman to think of her betrothed."

A moment passed, during which she felt the need to express her thoughts on the matter to Arthur until the words finally bubbled up to the surface.

"I have never met him."

Arthur looked back up at her, comprehension dawning on his face.

"I am marrying a man I have never met, and all I have to go off of is his reputation."

He nodded. "A noble reputation, I hope."

"I have heard nothing but good things, only of his kindness and gallantry," she replied with a tilt of her head. "But no amount of words is enough when I do not know him. I doubt a cruel word would be said about him, no matter how true, merely because he is a prince. So I cannot trust that he will truly be the same man I have heard about."

"I cannot promise that he will be everything you have heard. But tongues _do_ wag, and if he had any serious faults, your father would know of it and not submit you to such a match," he said in reassurance.

"It is what I hope. I just wish a husband could be more than someone you can put up with." She sighed, "But marrying is one of my duties. We all have our duties, just like you have yours."

"But there's a difference. I asked for my duties. As does every knight. Princesses do not."

Guinevere shrugged. "I usually do not mind it. Sometimes I even wish I had been born male, because then I would be able to rule my people." She then sighed again. 'You must think me foolish."

He shook his head. "I don't think that. I imagine you would be a good ruler. You are wise, just, compassionate…" He smiled gently, perhaps a little embarrassed.

"You don't think I would lack the command and force of a warrior king?"

He tilted his head to one side. "Peace is more important than war. You would be good at maintaining it. And if war were inevitable, you would be more concerned with the kingdom's well-being than your own foolish pride. Besides…" a roguish grin tugged at his lips, "I have seen you with a sword."

She blushed at his words and teasing eyes.

But Guinevere was soon reminded of her betrothal. What if she did not get along with her husband this easily? What if she did not like him? Or perhaps worse…

Arthur noticed her sudden change in expression. "What's wrong? Have I offended you?" She could hear the lump in his throat.

Guinevere quickly shook her head. "No, it's… I just realized that I am not the only one awaiting an unknown spouse. Here I am worried he will disappoint me when perhaps I should worry that _I_ will disappoint _him._"

Arthur shifted from the log he sat on to hers, placing his hand over her own, which rested on her knee.

"I assure you, Guinevere, he will not be disappointed. He will have a beautiful wife, which is all many men ask for. And if he has any sense, he will know he is blessed with a brave, kind, and intelligent woman such as yourself."

Guinevere's cheeks felt warm at his words and shook her head. Unable to look him in the eye, she focused on how his fingers curled over the back of her hand and tucked between her thumb and palm.

"I am not so beautiful. Morgana –"

"Morgana _attracts_ male attention, will _hold_ the attention, and can even manipulate it. You, however, shy away from it. It does not make you less beautiful, only more modest." Guinevere could almost hear him swallow, before he said more lowly, "That is one man's opinion, anyway."

Still incapable of lifting her gaze from their hands, she moved her thumb over his fingers. His hand gripped hers a bit tighter in response.

"I wish you did not have to do this," he added lowly.

Her eyes finally found his face, surprised at how close he seemed. But it was not unwelcome. "I wish I did not have to do this, either," she whispered.

They stayed like that for several moments, staring at each other. She studied his expression, his eyes, his mouth. He leaned forward. She closed her eyes.

A second more passed than Guinevere thought right, before she felt his lips press against her cheek.

"You should get some rest," he said, his voice strange.

And she realized that tone in his voice was restraint.

lll

Arthur had come much too close to kissing her last night. If his brain had not kicked in last second, he surely would have. And that would have been a mistake – despite how good he was sure it would have been.

Good, but _wrong_.

He rose early the next morning, despite only being able to fall asleep a few hours ago. Wanting to let the princess sleep a bit more, he went to river he had spotted last night while deciding where to camp.

The river was not very wide, but looked rather deep and the current slow. Arthur crouched down to splash some water on his face, trying to push the inappropriate thoughts out of his head and wishing the water were colder. He cupped water to his mouth for a few satisfying gulps before mopping the back of his neck and exhaling.

A twig snapped behind him, causing Arthur to sharply turn, hand on sword.

"It's just me," Guinevere said quickly, her hands up in a mock surrender. "I'd simply wondered where you'd gone. You weren't there when I woke up."

He nodded, relaxing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone."

"You did not venture far," she said in understanding.

She crouched beside him, drinking her own fill of water before wetting her face.

"Do we have far left to go?"

Arthur realized how intently he was watching her and shifted his gaze. "We would probably arrive before the afternoon."

"Then perhaps I could bathe before being received in Benwick. If it would not delay us too much."

He swallowed. "No, we have time enough. I will give you some privacy."

"But that would be leaving me alone," she pointed out as he took a few steps. "Besides, it would not be a bad idea if you bathed as well," she said with a gentle laugh. "You've been in that armor for a few days."

Arthur frowned, hoping that he didn't smell too horrendous. "I suppose…"

"If you could just turn your back while I undress."

"Of course," he said quickly and faced away from her.

For the second time in three days Arthur found himself trying not to imagine her naked body while she undressed not far away. But purposely trying not to think about it only made the thought occur to him even more, aided by every sound of rough cloth sliding against her skin and the smooth silk of her bindings whispering off her breasts.

He _really_ hoped the river water was colder once he was submerged in it.

Finally he heard the splash of her entering the water. "I'm in now," she called.

He began to work on his armor, struggling a bit with a few of the harder-to-reach buckles. Then came his chainmail, padding, undershirt, boots, and trousers. He wondered if it was only his imagination that he felt her eyes on him. But when he finished and turned, Guinevere's back was to him.

Her wet and gleaming _naked_ back.

Arthur faced away from her as soon as he got in the river. The water itself was pleasantly warm from the summer sun shining on it, although today he would have preferred something frigid. He tried to keep his distance from her, but that was impossible in the narrowness of the stream without going shallow enough to expose himself.

It was silent between them, save for the sound of water shifting while they bathed. He tried to forget the fact that she was so close he could reach behind him and touch her, and that they were both very naked, with no barrier between them whatsoever. Except it was very, very hard to _forget_.

It was why he jumped when he felt the cool touch in the center of his back. He sharply turned, instantly wishing that he hadn't, to face her. His eyes couldn't help but flicker over her exposed torso, but quickly snapped to her face.

And then she reached up and kissed him.

Arthur's eyebrows were knit together as she broke apart, his expression one of confusion. And before he could collect himself to voice a proper question, she kissed him again.

To Arthur's credit, he remained still for several moments, passively letting her kiss him, parting his lips for her access. Then something inside him seemed to snap, and he was kissing her back, bringing one hand to her neck as he tilted her head back, his mouth firm but gentle.

Her hands went to his shoulders, pulling herself up so that her breasts brushed his chest, her nipples hard and grazing enticingly against him. Then one of her hands was traveling back down between their torsos, his body knowing her destination even if his mind hadn't yet registered it, his muscles contracting under her touch.

He grunted when her fingers finally brushed his cock. Right then, he knew he'd let it go much too far, that he should pull away. But then her hand splayed over him, her palm and fingers stroking him experimentally, unsurely, and all coherent thought left him.

His lips slowed on hers, their kisses becoming simpler, as everything seemed to melt away and his mind blurred. It felt good – so damn good. But it wasn't what he needed. So he reached down, knowing he should be dragging her hand _away_ from him, but instead guiding her hand so that it was wrapped firmly around him and showing her how to move. She took his wordless instruction, pausing when his hand left hers, only to squeeze him a little and continue.

He groaned, long and low, as her hand pumped on him. Her pace was unhurried, but that didn't matter since it seemed that time itself had paused, only feeling her small and surprisingly sure hand and her soft, sweet mouth.

Every once and awhile her lips would leave his, he could only assume to draw back enough to see him, to gauge his reactions. But he didn't dare open his eyes to look at her, afraid her face might remind him of exactly who she was and why he should not let this be happening. Even if that meant not seeing her brown eyes, so deep and dark he could easily fall right into them. And her full lips, so tantalizing in whichever expression she wore on them. And her freckles, that he somehow had never, ever noticed before and spent much of last night memorizing each one in the firelight.

But of course as he reminded himself of all the things he was missing, he couldn't help finally opening his eyes when she drew back yet again. And even if that meant facing the guilt, it was worth it. Worth seeing the water droplets on her eyelashes, the damp curls framing her face and the flush in her cheeks; worth it to see how she looked back at him.

"Guinevere," he moaned raggedly, wanting to tell her… he didn't know what. But wanting to say _something_.

His other hand trailed up her back and she shivered. But she did not shy away. Her brown eyes just locked on his as she moved closer, making the intensity inside him build under her gaze. She pressed a brief kiss to his lips, whispered his name, and – whether she meant to or not – sent him over the edge.

Reality slowly bled into his bliss, returning him to rational thought.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, his voice still rough.

Guinevere stared back, her own breathing a bit labored, and licked her lips. "Because I wanted to."

Before Arthur could say or do anything more, Guinevere moved past him and lifted herself out of the water towards the pile of her clothes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Freefall to Fate – AU Camelot [4/?]

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur, Lancelot, Uther, OCs (Gwen/Lancelot)

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word Count:** 4,449

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own _Merlin_, because if I did…let's just say it wouldn't be a "family" show.

**Warnings:** some clichés/plot devices, angst, character death.

**Summary:** Sir Arthur is assigned as Princess Guinevere's personal protection on the trip to meet her betrothed, Prince Lancelot. And thus began the freefall to fate.

**Author's notes:**

-First written for the "Challenge 04 – Alternate Universe" in the merlin_rarepair LJ comm (which accepted WIPs). This fic concept just soooo ran away with me.

-I should perhaps clarify that this is *not* a 'this is how the legend really happened' fic, more of an AU/Legend fusion (mostly AU with snippets from legend when it so suited me… which became more and more as I progressed). I also claim only minimal knowledge of the Arthurian legend.

-I should say that I took some really big liberties with the Arthurian legend in this chapter (character role-wise). But I've already bastardized the legend enough in my making it into an AU (makes the _Merlin_ writers look like purists), so … _meh_.

I made Galehaut Lancelot's brother. In legend, some have interpreted them to be lovers, or at least Galehaut into loving Lancelot. But I was coming up empty on who could fill the role of Lancelot's brother, so I figured I'd make it into a brotherly love? Plus Galehaut is a warlord in legend(as far as I can figure) and warlord - [eventual] king isn't too much of a stretch, methinks. Then I made Galahad and Galeas (who is an alternate name of Galahad, so I made one person into two) Galehaut's sons, which I figured being Lancelot's son(s) - Lancelot's nephews wasn't too bad of a leap, especially since I can pretend that they got their namesakes from their 'father'. Then to finish it off, Elaine became Galehaut's wife, remaining Galahad's mother.

llllllllll

They barely spoke ten words to each other for the rest of the journey, lapsing them into an even more uncomfortable silence than two days previous.

Guinevere didn't know what to say to him, and she could not expect him to do any better.

She had just wanted to kiss him. Then, she had wanted to touch him. And then, to _give_ him something. She had no other reason she could think of than that. She couldn't explain what made her decide to turn around in the river – while they were both stark _naked_. She didn't even know what made her suggest he bathe with her. And then she'd tempted herself with the snuck look at him while he undressed, despite herself.

All the while she'd been thinking that she would never have the chance with him again. So for once in her life, she _acted_. She did what she wanted instead of what was right, instead of doing the rational thing. And she did not regret it, really. She only wished it hadn't made things tense between them.

It was only a matter of time before Arthur and Guinevere reached the edge of the trees to see the castle of Benwick on the horizon. It took less than an hour to pass through the outlying farmland, and then they were finally upon the city walls themselves.

Arthur immediately approached one of the guards at the main gate.

"I am Sir Arthur of Camelot. I bring Princess Guinevere."

The guard stared at him in confusion, prompting Arthur to motion towards her. Guinevere took off her cap to let her hair tumble down and stepped forward.

"I hope that my father, King Uther, has arrived."

"Y-yes," the guard stuttered, in clear disbelief.

"Good." Guinevere couldn't help a small sigh of relief that her father hadn't befallen the same fate on the road from Camelot.

"Then you will send word to him. And King Ban."

The guard nodded to a servant boy next to him, who ran on ahead of them.

Guinevere and Arthur made their way through the town to the castle, receiving many strange looks and whispers. A woman dressed as a boy, walking ahead of a knight, would indeed be unusual. A few of them even gave hesitant bows, perhaps figuring out who she was.

Uther was already coming down the steps of the castle when they arrived, his arms outstretched.

"Guinevere! You're safe." The great relief in him was audible in his tone as he embraced her. "When I'd arrived this morning and heard you were missing, I –" Uther sighed and gripped her tighter. "I shouldn't have let you go. Or I should have had a _battalion_ accompany you. "

"Don't blame yourself, father," she reassured with a squeeze to his arms. "I'm fine, now."

Uther pulled back to assess her better and see that she was in one piece, finally giving into the question on his mind. "But _what_, dear, are you wearing?"

"My dress was far from inconspicuous, father. So I suggested disguising myself as Sir Arthur's squire."

The king shook his head in amused disbelief. "Well, whatever it took to make sure you arrived safely."

"Uther, is that your daughter?" a jovial voice boomed.

"Yes, Ban. She might not look the princess in her ruse, but this is Guinevere."

The other king smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth creasing from much use. "Well she is still very beautiful despite the costume."

"Thank you, my lord," she answered with an awkward curtsy in her trousers.

"Guinevere, as you must assume, this is King Ban. And the lovely young woman next to him is his daughter-in-law, Princess Elaine, Prince Galehaut's wife."

Elaine, a tall blonde woman who looked several months with child nodded and smiled her greeting. "You will forgive my lack of curtsey," she said with a touch to her stomach.

"Galehaut and Lancelot are out among those looking for you along the road – to which I have already sent a message about the good news. And I must also ask how you arrived here before the search party found you."

Arthur stepped forward. "We took the west road, my lord, after being attacked. It was the closest route from where he had fled to."

"This is Sir Arthur," Uther explained. "He is one of Camelot's finest, who I had assigned as personal guard to my daughter for the journey. With good reason, it seems, seeing as he has delivered her safely to us."

"Your majesty," Arthur greeted with a bow.

King Ban nodded. "Of course. You are an honored guest for your duties."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"Well," said King Ban with a clap of his hands. "Let us get on to the tasks ahead of us. We still have a lot of work for the wedding tomorrow, especially when we abandoned most of them in favor of searching for the bride! But since the excitement is thankfully over, we must get back to business. Now if Elaine could show Guinevere to her chambers, into a change of clothes, and get her prepared for tonight and tomorrow."

"Certainly, my lord," Princess Elaine answered, motioning for Guinevere to join her.

"And then, Uther, perhaps we can steal your man just long enough get a better idea of our highwaymen problem on the road before we let him have some well-deserved rest."

The remainder of the men's conversation was out of earshot as the two women moved towards the guest quarters.

Guinevere was surprised to learn that, despite looking no more than two months away from giving birth, Elaine walked rather quickly and still seemed full of energy.

"I would assume, my dear, from what was found of your caravan and what you bring with you now that all your things were stolen by the bandits."

"Yes, they were."

Elaine sighed, "That is so unfortunate."

Guinevere shrugged. "They were just things. Nothing of consequence."

"But your wedding dress!" Elaine's gait paused and she shook her head. "Listen to me fretting over the bridal gown when we nearly lost the bride. You're right; what is important is that you arrived safely." She resumed her quick pace down the hall, her purpose not easily forgotten. "Now don't you worry about your clothes. We will find something for you to wear in the meantime to get you out of that outfit and a wedding dress will be started on right away. Some sacrifices might need to be made for the sake of time, unfortunately…"

"That is no bother. I really do not mind what I am married in."

Elaine laughed. "Of course! What matters is that you are _being_ married. Now here we are at your chambers."

Guinevere turned into the room after Elaine to see a flurry of maids filling up a tub, laying out dresses and materials, and bringing food.

"I assumed you would want a hot bath and a warm meal upon arrival, so I sent for one as soon as I heard the news."

Guinevere was reminded of her bath that morning, but hardly thought it a good idea to mention it.

"Thank you, my lady. That is very kind of you."

"Please, Guinevere, call me Elaine. We will be sisters shortly."

Guinevere smiled weakly. "So, we will be, Elaine."

She was soon beckoned behind the screen by a few maids while the last buckets of water were poured in. One maid set to help undress her, a little hesitant for a moment as she was obviously used to taking off _dresses_. Finally, Gwen was naked and the maids went back to the other side of the screen for her to bathe.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor and a female sigh got Guinevere's attention.

"I hope you are not being worn out, Elaine," she called, assuming that the woman was finally resting a moment.

Elaine laughed. "I'm used to it. This will be my third child."

"Who are your others?"

"Two boys. Galahad is seven and Galeas is just four. I would like this one to be a girl, but I suppose I'll always have more chances."

Gwen nodded to herself. Her father had explained how Lancelot had been groomed to become a king alongside his older brother, incase Galehaut died before having heirs of his own. But now with at least two sons, it was sure that Lancelot was no longer in line to be king of Benwick. His preparation to become one, however, was what made him such a strong candidate to become king of Camelot. That, and the friendship between the two current kings. Just as Uther trusted Ban's ability at being king, he trusted Ban's sons to be brought up the same way. Uther couldn't have found a better husband for her.

"Is something wrong, Guinevere?"

Guinevere realized how she'd grown quiet and dropped the conversation. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit tired, I suppose."

"There's no need for apologies, Guinevere. I can only imagine what you've been through. So after we have you fitted in one of my old dresses for tonight and measured for your wedding gown, you can have some rest."

lll

A few hours later, Guinevere was gently roused from her slumber by a servant.

For a wonderful moment, Guinevere thought she was still somewhere in the forest with Arthur and able to spend at least one more day alone with him. And then once she realized she was in a bed and not on the ground, she wondered if she were in her room at Camelot and it all just been some strange dream.

But, no. She was in Benwick. Her welcoming feast was in an hour. And tomorrow…

Tomorrow she was getting married.

The seamstress' assistant arrived with the refitted dress from that afternoon. Elaine had decided the blush colored one had suited her best. The shade garnered a few teasing comments from Elaine about Guinevere soon being a blushing bride, at which Guinevere tried not to look distressed over.

"Are you nervous, Guinevere?"

"No," she lied. Well, maybe it was a lie. Guinevere didn't know _what_ she felt anymore.

Elaine clucked and linked arms with her as they walked down together. "I was nervous, too, the first time I met Galehaut. But there is nothing to worry about. Lancelot is a fine man and he will think you are lovely."

Guinevere nodded, a lump now lodged in her throat. She might have had those worries a few days ago, but that all seemed so trivial right now.

All eyes seemed to be on her the moment she and Elaine entered the banquet hall. She quickly found King Ban and her father standing at the head table. On either side of the kings were the two princes. Lancelot would be next to her father. Like his brother, he was tall and of a muscular build, with tan skin and dark medium-length hair.

She and Elaine curtsied to the head table and parted to take their respective seats at either end of the table– but not before the blonde gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

Guinevere should have been very pleased to have such a man as her betrothed. Through the duration of the feast, she could tell that Prince Lancelot was kind, chivalrous, intelligent, and even rather handsome. She found no apparent faults with him, no annoying habits. He did not chew his food loudly or laugh obnoxiously while she sat next to him, exchanging pleasantries.

Guinevere had never been a romantic, but instead very practical. So she hated the disappointment she felt that Lancelot stirred nothing from within her. If she had met him a week ago, she would have been perfectly content with such a match. But the fact remained that the past few days _had_ happened and it had changed things… changed _her_.

While Lancelot described Benwick to her, a topic that would have interested her at one time, her eyes strayed down the others tables on either side of the banquet hall. Finally, she found Arthur, although she had not realized she'd been searching for him until then.

She was surprised that he had already been looking at her when she laid eyes on him, but he did not break his gaze on her. Her mouth went dry as she locked eyes with him. After a few seconds, her stomach began to ache so that she placed one hand over her abdomen and closed her eyes as a chill racked her.

"Guinevere?" Lancelot's voice called softly. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm just tired," she whispered. It was the second time she had used that excuse today. How many more times in her life would she have to use it?

"That's perfectly understandable. Might you wish to retire early?"

Gwen thought for a moment, finally opening her eyes to glance back at Arthur before returning Lancelot's gaze. "Yes, I think I will."

lll

Arthur watched them as they left the banquet hall, biting his cheeks to keep himself from glowering. Seeing her hand in his, however genteelly, made him feel strangely empty. He caught her eyes a third time that night, her face almost apologetic, as she left with Lancelot.

The only consolation was that the prince returned alone not long after. Which was ridiculous, since in a day's time, Lancelot would be allowed to spend all the time alone with her he wanted – a thought which made Arthur's insides squirm.

lll

"Your majesty," Arthur bowed stiffly as he entered the king's guest chamber after the feast.

King Uther granted him one of his few smiles. "Sir Arthur. You must know why I wished to see you."

The knight paused, Uther's smile confusing him. "I apologize, your majesty. But I don't."

"So modest, Arthur," he laughed heartily. "I wish to repay you for keeping my daughter safe."

Arthur nodded slowly.

"Now over the years, you've certainly collected a large amount in prize money from tournaments. So I thought that perhaps there was something else you might want… A reward of a _different_ kind."

Arthur was beginning to feel obtuse, but perhaps that was because he was so preoccupied with another thought.

"I thought it possible that you might wish to marry a certain Lady." There was no doubt in Arthur's mind that he meant Morgana.

"Oh," Arthur answered stupidly before collecting himself. "That's very gracious of you, your majesty. But," he wet his lips, "I will have to politely decline your offer."

The king was silent for a moment, making Arthur dread that the king could read his mind.

"Perhaps there is another lady, who you wish to marry? I can put in a good word for you; and as king, my word goes very far."

Arthur shook his head. "There is yet any woman whom I would wish to marry, your majesty. But I thank you."

"Then is there anything you do want as your reward?"

"Only to continue in your service, your majesty. I did nothing more than required of me in my duty as a knight, so I ask for nothing more."

"But you went above and beyond –"

"It is what a good knight does, your majesty," he interrupted. It would be otherwise rude to interrupt the king, but Arthur was less caring at this point and luckily Uther was in a charitable enough mood to let it slide.

Uther studied the knight for a few more moments, and then said, "It's late. And I'm sure you must be very tired from the past few days. Remember that it will never be too late to reconsider, if you ever require something or need a favor in the future, merely come to me."

"That is exceedingly kind of you, your majesty."

Arthur bowed at his dismissal, Uther calling out as he opened the door.

"I am indebted to you, Sir Arthur. I will not forget that."

Arthur gave a courteous nod and left.

lll

After a half hour of pacing hallways, Arthur somehow ended up at Guinevere's door.

He regretted knocking as soon as he did it. She was probably asleep. And even then it was a bad idea to be alone with her. It wasn't right, and especially considering –

But the door opened in a surprisingly short amount of time.

"Arthur?"

"I…" He stared at her for a moment. "I – don't know what I'm doing here," he rushed. "Forgive me."

"No," she said, quickly touching his elbow. "Please, Arthur. Come in."

He nodded. He did not want to be seen standing outside of her room this late and whatever might be said by them would not be something they'd want overheard.

So Arthur walked to the center of her room, arms folded behind his back as he faced her.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour," he began politely.

"It's no matter. I couldn't sleep." She wet her lips as a moment passed. "So why are you here?"

It was not an accusation. He could tell she just wanted an honest answer.

"I suppose I came to… apologize. I should not have acted that way. I should not have had you… do that."

"I did nothing I did not want to do, Arthur," she replied gently.

"But it was dishonorable of me."

Guinevere placed her hand on his chest. "I do not believe that, Arthur. If anything, I am the one to blame. I don't know what I had been thinking. I'd never done anything like that before. I just –" she stopped her rambling and lowered her head. "I hope you don't think less of me."

Arthur raised her chin with his knuckle. "I could _never_ think less of you."

"I just, I felt…"

"I understand," he answered quietly. He more than understood – he'd felt it, too.

He covered the hand on his chest with his, his other hand still holding her chin, thumb grazing over her jaw.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," she whispered. But the way she said it and the look in her eyes, it sounded like a plea.

The space between their bodies had shrunk to practically nothing and Arthur could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage – against _her hand_.

Arthur took a deep breath. "I was never allowed the chance to repay you."

"What do you mean?"

"For… in the river."

Guinevere tilted her head a fraction. "Oh. I thought that… I thought that if anything, _I_ was repaying _you_. Because you saved me."

"No. You said you did that because you wanted to," he answered, several seconds passing while he only breathed unnaturally heavily. "Now let me do something because _I _want to."

They stood silent for a moment, when he hurried, "Unless you don't want –"

"Yes," she interrupted boldly, her voice then growing softer. "Yes."

His hands drifted to the sash of her dressing gown. "You trust me?" he whispered.

"With my life."

He nodded, pulling the end of the sash until it came free of its knot. Then both hands were on her shoulders, pushing the dressing gown off her so it whispered to the ground.

Arthur swallowed, tentative of the next step. So he rested his fingers on the front laces of her nightshift. He felt her breath hitch, her breasts shuddering against his hand. But Guinevere's gaze on him did not falter when he began to undo the laces, save for when they flickered down to watch his hand work. Once the strip of skin down to her navel was visible, he pushed off her shift just as he'd done with her dressing gown.

Arthur's eyes couldn't help but travel over the body he'd resisted looking at before. He finally stared back up at her, after what was probably an indecent amount of time, to find her gaze. He could not quite discern her expression, somewhere between nervousness and excitement, fear and curiosity. But even in her hesitance, she looked back at him expectantly.

His hand finally found her face, almost afraid to touch any other part of her, to kiss her. Fingers laced into his hair as she kissed him back, no less bold from her nakedness being in plain view. He then felt her pull closer to him, but he grabbed her upper arms before their bodies actually connected.

Guinevere looked back at him, startled at his sudden change.

"This is about you," he whispered raggedly. He didn't think he could handle having her whole body pressed against him. This would already be a test of his wills.

She looked at him in confusion, but nodded her head. So he guided her back to sit on the edge of her bed. He kneeled in front of her and resumed their kiss.

The kiss was becoming much more intense than that morning had been. Guinevere' breaths came in ragged pants and her occasional moans only increased his fervor. He knew she was inexperienced, but she did not lack enthusiasm, returning his ministrations with every determination.

His hands went to her waist and began a slow journey upward. His thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts experimentally, at which Guinevere sighed. Taking this as permission, he cupped them fully.

Guinevere arched against his hands, whimpering softly as he massaged them. He then took one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her gasp.

Arthur broke the kiss, finding her earlobe and sucking it between his teeth before moving down to kiss her neck. From there, his mouth traveled to her breasts, pushing her back until she was half lying on the bed. He felt the brush of her fingers at the back of his neck, making him shiver all the way down his spine. When he sucked roughly at her nipple, that hand of hers then fisted into his hair as a sharp "_ah_!" escaped her.

His hands were at her legs now, his thumbs brushing the insides of her thighs so that she was parting them for him, trembling as his hands moved higher and higher.

"You alright?" he whispered against the skin of her stomach.

"Yes," she replied breathily. His thumbs then ran over her outer lips, and she opened her legs even more. "Oh, _yes_."

Arthur could smell her arousal and even see how glistening she was in the dim light. This time it was him that moaned. Then he brought up one finger and ran it down her center.

Guinevere whimpered above him, and he saw her fist the bed sheets at either side of her.

Arthur so badly wanted to press his fingers inside of her, both to bring her pleasure that way and so he could feel her warm, soft body. But he was afraid to put so much as a finger in her and risk jeopardizing her maidenhood, and therefore her future husband's opinion of her. Or perhaps it was a more selfish reason. Because the knowledge of how she would feel, so hot and tight around his fingers, would be too much – either too much of a temptation or bring him too much jealousy of what he couldn't have. He was probably tempting himself too much already just by having his finger trace her slit. But he could tell from her whimpers that she liked it and he didn't want to take that pleasure away from her.

Instead he opted to replace his finger with his open mouth, pressing it over her lips, so that she shuddered. Then his tongue ran around the edge of her opening before slipping just the tip of it between the folds, hearing her quiet gasp.

She tasted sweet and fresh, compelling him to spread her wide with both hands on her thighs and lick up all he could of her, exploring every crevice with his tongue and enjoying how her body shook and shivered.

He licked up to her clit, flicking his tongue against it and sucking on it. This, of course, got the best response: Guinevere arching up from the bed, gasping, "Arthur. Oh, Arthur. Arthur, _please_. Arthur–!"

He kept going, blood surging at the sound of his name, wondering if she even knew what she was begging for. But, by God, he was going to give it to her or die trying. Soon she couldn't even form his name anymore, just wordless sounds and cries that she bit back until finally her body pulsed against him and she moaned.

Her breathing came in deep gasps as she winded back down, while Arthur gently licked up the wetness that remained and rubbed tender circles into her hipbones with his thumbs. He only stopped when he felt her fingers running through his fringe, which had been sticking to his sweaty forehead until then.

He looked up to meet her eyes, finding her propped up on one elbow and staring down at him. Her expression was soft, her eyes shining and her smile shy, as she just continued to stroke his hair. No woman had _ever_ looked at him like that.

"Arthur?" she whispered.

His mouth went dry, despite its watering a moment previous. He felt her hand move to the back of his head and tug him to her.

Guinevere pulled him up close to her so that his upper body was hovering over hers, his arms resting on either side of her, his hips coming close to hers so that he had to fight every instinct he had to not grind his erection between her open legs. She tried to bring him closer still, but he braced against her, resisting her waiting mouth. When he would not kiss her, Guinevere's eyes fluttered open after just drifting shut in expectation.

"Arthur?" This time his name carried her confusion, worry, perhaps even hurt.

He stared down at her, wishing he could take what she was offering. But he knew he couldn't – and she would, too, if she were thinking clearly instead of with a mind hazed by want and need.

"I should go," he murmured.

Guinevere's eyebrows worked together as she bit her lip.

He stretched up, pressing a long, tender kiss to her forehead, before receding. He wasn't able to look at her again as he stood and left the room.

Arthur found the closest alcove and took his cock out in his hand. Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the cool stone wall, his hand moved while he imagined that he had stayed in her room to make love to her. It did not take long before he was clamping down on his moans and finishing off. His breath still shuddered as he laced back up his trousers, not daring to leave the dark corner until he stopped shaking.

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**Author's note:** Here's the deal, FanfictionNet readers,

I posted the first 3 chapters of this fic to my LJ account awhile ago, with the thought that I would post to FanfictionNet when I finished the whole thing. As you can see, I decided against doing that. But you should know that the first three chapters had three month gaps between them, and the fourth chapter came after a two month gap. I always hope that I will not go so long without updating this fic, but with having other stuff to do & occasional writers block, that doesn't always happen.

Long story short: just because it seems that I've been cranking out this story due to the short time between posting the past 4 chapters, I can't promise that updates will continue to happen speedily, only that I will try. I do plan on finishing, it might just take me awhile.

Apologies & thanks for reading,

dfriendly

PS: Because of my possibly irratic updates, if you want to catch future chapters I would suggest Story Alert or Author Alert.


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